Have any of you ever wondered what happened when Josef got the phone call from Guillermo in episode 13?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, Moonlight is owned by Warner Bros and Joel Silver.

The Phone Call

By Hope

Josef's POV

I had just finished my last meeting for the night and it’s only eight o’clock. Mick usually drops by at this time to have a chat, mostly about his helpless feelings for the blond reporter. But ever since he re-joined the moral universe, he’s visits became less frequent. So I thought I’d pass the time in my home office by playing some mini-gulf. Let’s see if I can break my current record of three hundred hole-in-ones and I’m just one hole away from achieving that goal.

Normally, I don’t play mini-games in my home office, but since the top floor of my down town office complex, where I usually do business, is currently being renovated after it got blown inside out by some homicidal mercenary/loner a few weeks ago.

I bent over slightly to line my good putter with the white gulf ball that sat patiently on the green rolled out mat. “Come on, baby. Daddy needs one more hole to beat his own record.” I murmured. I tightened my grip on the handle as I raised my putter slightly, but when my mew iPhone began buzzing away in my pocket, I lost concentration and applied a little too much swing, sending the gulf ball flying over my desk and knocking over an antique vase.

“Shit.” I hissed.

That vase dated back to the late 17th century, making it as least 340 years old and now it lies broken into small pieces on my good carpet. So, I guess this is why mothers always tell their children to never play ball games in the house.

Without losing my cool, I put my putter to one side and pulled out my phone from my pocket. I looked at the screen and recognised the name on the caller ID, Guillermo Gasol. Strange? Guillermo never really calls, usually he would send me a text whenever a body with suspicious bit marks was brought into the morgue.

Well, whatever it is, he better have a damn good reason to be calling me because he’s gonna be the one replacing my three and half century old vase.

“You better have a good reason for calling me, Guillermo, because I was just in a middle of something and-”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. K, but this is an emergency.” The coroner interrupted. Jee’s, didn’t his sire ever tell him that it’s rude to talk over others, especially to those who are ten times his age such as myself.

“What kind of emergency?”

“It’s Mick. I think he’s about to do something extremely stupid?”

“Something stupid, like what exactly?”

Guillermo was silent for a moment before he replied. “Remember the recent death of Doughnut Diet’s spokes modal, Jill Button? It turns out that she died from massive blood loss and not from having cosmetic surgery. Mick left about five minutes ago, saying that he was going to rescue that human reporter and the new ADA. What are their faces… uh, Beth Turner and Ben Talbot.”

“Yes, but from whom? Be a little bit more specific.”

The coroner signed.

“Jill’s plastic surgeon, Pierce Anders, he’s a vampire and by the looks of the injuries that he inflicted on Mick, a very dangerous one.”

Ok, scratch the payback for the broken vase.

“Oh, that stupid fool…” I was speechless and shocked. Heck, I couldn’t even move a mussel. I can’t believe that Mick would do something like this without thinking of the severe consequences. No, Guillermo must be talking about a different Mick, because the Mick that I know wouldn’t do something as chocked up as this. “Please tell me were talking about a different Mick?”

“I really wish I was, sir, believe me. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. He even managed to get Ander’s address out of me.”

“Look, I’ll take it from here and I will call you back soon. And Guillermo, thanks for calling and letting me know, I appreciate that.” I added.

“No problems, sir.” The coroner replied, “I understand that Mick is a close friend of yours.”

You don’t even know half of it. “Bye, Guillermo.”

“Bye, sir.” Then I hung up.

I grabbed my jacket that was slumped over one of the visitor’s seats and marched straight out of the office, and out the double doors to my multi-million dollar mansion without bothering to close them. Why should I even bother to close them, when there is a more important matter to attend too, like saving Mick from certain death? I jumped into my Ferrari and sped off down the deserted freeway.

All I can really hope now is that Mick has not yet left his apartment and if he is there, well, let’s just wait and see what happens.